Rising
by Known Unknowns
Summary: None of this matters now, because it is too late for remorse, too late for regrets... Ziva is gone. Expansions on 6x25 - "Aliyah".


**Rising**

_A/N: So, "Aliyah" is one of my favorite episodes, even though it makes me cry, and whenever I see Tony and Ziva yell at each other I kind of want to puke on my shoes. I feel like I needed to expand a bit on some of it, mainly on Tony's thoughts and feelings, though the first snippet here is from Gibbs' POV._

_Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS!_

* * *

"Who is next? You?" Ziva asks, looking close to tears as she levels a heavy glare at him. Her expression is the same as it has been since Rivkin's death - angry and upset, both at herself and the world in general... and at Tony. He doesn't particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of the dark-eyed glare.

"Ziva," Gibbs says softly. "I'm on your side. I always have been. _We_ always have been." _And we always will be. _He adds silently.

"It does not feel like that anymore, Gibbs." she shakes her head, pursing her lips and turning her back to him, unable to meet his eyes. He moves forward, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. She tenses under his touch, but to his surprise, she does not pull away. "Are you going to defend Tony now? Say that he was only doing what he had to? How he did not mean for me to get hurt?"

"Would it make any difference?" he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

"No... no it wouldn't." she replies. Her voice is shaky. Broken.

"I want you to do something for me." he tells her, taking a step closer to her, his chin nearly brushing the back of her head.

"I am not really in the mood for favors at the moment." she says with a breathy, humorless laugh.

"Not a request, Ziva." he responds.

"It never is, is it?" she says, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. Her dark brown eyes hold the same dark, shadowed quality as they have for the past few days. She's added extra eye shadow to her usual makeup to cover up the bags and red puffiness under her eyes.

"Remember that you're not alone." he instructs her. "Remember who's here for you." This is the only thing he can offer her now, reassurance that is most likely useless. He hates that this is the best he can do. Affairs of the heart have never been his strongsuit.

"I find that my memory is getting foggy."

"Don't let it." he presses a soft kiss to her cheek before releasing her shoulder and heading back inside Mossad headquarters, leaving her standing by herself in the blazing Israeli sun.

* * *

Tony winces, clutching at his injured arm as Ziva stalks aware from him, fury pouring off of her in waves. The hard collision with the unforgiving ground has only worsened his already severe arm injury, and the spot on his chest and leg where Ziva held the weapon are tingling. He leans his head back against the pavement, groaning slightly.

_Ziva David just pointed a gun at me... she could've shot me... could've killed me... hell, I think she wanted to._

He feels frozen in place. Is it physical pain? Emotional? Maybe it's just the fact that if he gets back up, he has to continue dealing with this mess - to face what he's done. He hasn't figured out if it's a mistake or not yet.

Maybe it's because Ziva just _pointed a gun at him._

There's some confusion there. Ziva is his... friend, for lack of a better term. Friends aren't supposed to point guns at their friends. Partners aren't supposed to want to kill their partners. That's twice now just in the past couple days. He had been the target of Ziva's borderline murderous rage, and it leaves him with a horrible sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

_Get up, DiNozzo. _A voice says in the back of his head. It sounds suspiciously like Gibbs. _I'm hearing Gibbs' voice in my head? That's not good._

He finally pushes himself into a sitting position, and he notices that he's earning a strange look or two from passerby. _What, you've never seen a random American guy with a broken arm sitting criss-cross applesauce on the sidewalk?_

He rubs his face, which is hot to the touch from the unusual amount of sun hitting him. He blinks slowly, trying to remove the image of Ziva, her eyes filled with murderous rage - it was definitely murderous - straddling him, teeth bared, and the split second that he was absolutely sure that she was going to kill him.

He's happy that his gut is wrong, for once. The only thing that could make this situation anymore terrible is dying. He's not ready to die yet, even if Ziva was ready for him to die the night he came to her apartment to question her.

* * *

"Boss? One short?" Tony questions when Gibbs says nothing. Their flight is in the air, and he doesn't quite comprehend why Ziva isn't with them. Is she taking care of some unfinished business in Tel Aviv? Catching a later flight? Staying with her father for a little while, maybe? But she _is_ coming back, right?

"Good to go." Gibbs tells the pilot, and a pit in his stomach threatens to swallow him.

However, in his heart, he's pretty sure he already knows the answer, but he needs to know for sure. After all, his gut hasn't been doing famously of late. Gibbs looks up at him, his ice blue eyes had been staring into the distance for the past few minutes. Gibbs doesn't respond verbally, simply raises an eyebrow at him.

"She's not coming back?" he asks, licking his lips. The desert has done a number on them, leaving them chapped and cracked. Gibbs just looks at him, and for a second Tony doesn't think he's going to say anything at all, but then Gibbs surprises him and speaks.

"She needs time, Tony."

Time. Yeah. He's starting to wonder if time's a good thing or not. Because, the more time that passes, the worse things get. Every year he loses another person. Kate. Jeanne. Jenny. And now, it appears he's lost Ziva as well.

For a man with a strong tendency to blame himself, this is making the burden of guilt almost impossible to carry. His shoulders were tired. He had always carried around a lot with him, but driving Ziva away... damn it. He'd fucked up yet again.

_You let Ari kill Kate, you weren't looking out for her when you should have been._

_You lied to Jeanne for months, used her, told her you loved her and slept in the same bed with her - and she didn't even know your real name. No wonder she left._

_You let Jenny out of your sight, let her off on her own when you were her guard, and she was brutally murdered._

_You killed the man Ziva loved, and now she's going to be halfway across the world... probably just to get away from you, because you screwed up so bad she hates you._

_Nice job, DiNozzo._

* * *

"Behind you." he says, surprising Abby as she goes to find if their flight has landed yet. She squeals as she wraps him in a bone-crushing embrace, and he winces heavily. "Watch the arm-"

"Oh, sorry!" she exclaims as she backs away from, still smiling.

"Missed you too, Abs." Tony responds, moving his backpack off of his shoulder.

"Tony, I-" Palmer stutters, apparently nervous about being caught with Tony's magazine at Tony's desk.

"Jimmy." he greets, showing the young ME that he doesn't actually care. Right now, he doesn't really care about anything at all.

"Ziva getting her stuff?" Abby asks, looking around for Ziva.

"No." he replies stiffly, taking a seat at his desk.

"Bringing the car around?" McGee asks, looking happy to see him. He should be happy to see him as well, but at the moment, he doesn't really feel like he can express any emotion other than regret and resentment.

"No." another monosyllable response that he doesn't plan to expand on. Confusion is written all over Abby, McGee, and Palmer's faces.

"What is she doing?" McGee ventures, his brow furrowed.

"Going by the time difference, probably eating breakfast." he tells them, closing his eyes for a split second. This is the worst part, he decides, telling them. It's not their fault Ziva isn't coming back. He's still trying to figure out whether it's his or Gibbs' fault.

Gibbs. Old bastard didn't even stop at the Navy Yard before heading home, leaving him to explain to everyone where Ziva was. He was the one who left her behind in Israel, why was this his onus to bare?

"She's still in Tel Aviv? When is she coming back?" McGee asks, still perplexed.

"She's not." And there's the bomb, the fact that Ziva just isn't coming back to DC. Maybe Gibbs is right, and she does need time. The only question he has is how much time.

Abby's large green eyes go from confused to livid. "No! Vance can't do this again!" Oh, if only it was that simple.

"It wasn't Vance's call." he cuts her off.

"If it wasn't Vance, then who?" McGee asks. Tony doesn't have any idea of how to answer him. The words, _it was Gibbs _almost leave his lips, but he drags in a heavy breath and runs a hand through his hair. No. There's no need to tear apart the team more, turn them against Gibbs. Of course, can you really break what's already broken?

"Hers." is the only thing he can come up with, and they all seem to read the look on his face, and the metaphorical "Keep Out" sign stapled to his forehead. Palmer glances at them awkwardly before mumbling an excuse to head down to autopsy. McGee and Abby just stare at him, not knowing whether to ask, both lost on what happened in Israel.

"Tony..." Abby trails off, tears brimming in her eyes. "I..."

McGee is still speechless. His mouth is open slightly as his eyes continues to ask Tony silent questions that he can't even begin to answer. Tony slowly rises from his desk, blinking hard to stem the rising tide of emotion.

"I'm gonna head home, guys." he tells them quietly as he grabs a few of his possessions from his desk. He moves to go, scooting past McGee and Abby, making a beeline for the elevator.

Abby calls his name one more time, but he doesn't respond. He doesn't want them to see the wetness slowly growing in his eyes, doesn't want to show weakness, even now.

He flips the emergency stop button once the elevator is on it's way, and he flings himself against the wall. _Fuck this. _Safe where no one can see him, he finally lets the tears slip from his eyes, burning tracks down his cheeks and leaving salty droplets on his upper lip. His breathing is ragged as he lets out a harsh sob.

For one of the first times in many years, he is stripped down to nothing. There is no wall, no mask to hide behind, no bravado and boyish charm. All that's left is the guilt, the self-hatred, the anger, and the absolute need for control. He hates that he can't control _this_. He puts his fists to his eyes, applying pressure to try and stop the flow of water. _I want to come get you, chain you up, and drag you back here screaming - I need you._

But none of this matters now, because it is too late for remorse, too late for regrets.

Ziva is gone.

* * *

_A/N: It stirred some real emotion in me writing this, I'd love to know what you guys thought. :D_


End file.
